


Over The Years

by nandonman



Series: Destroy Me [1]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Also a Mike Munroe character study oops, Hospitalization, Josh Lives, Josh Washington Is Not a Wendigo, Josh has a lopsided smile, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mike & Sam are good friends, Mike has long eyelashes, Surprise Ending, Trauma, Washingroe, mike saves josh in the cave, pretty much a Josh Washington character study, survivor's guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nandonman/pseuds/nandonman
Summary: Josh had never planned on taking his 'crush' seriously. How could he, when his little sister was practically in love with the guy?OR,A timeline of Josh's feelings toward Mike.
Relationships: Mike Munroe/Josh Washington
Series: Destroy Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679794
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. Part 1 (Josh)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: survivor's guilt, nightmares, trauma nightmares
> 
> Update: I finally fixed the italicized words lmaoo

Josh never meant to take this whole 'crush' thing very seriously. In fact, he'd been avoiding the subject altogether since Chris gave him "the talk." They were only 17, and Hannah and Beth had just celebrated another year alive with no parents, drinks, and a very busy house. Josh had been staring--no booze, no excuses--when Chris caught him.

"Seriously, man, you've got to stop that."

Josh was pulled into reality and blinked several times in confusion.

"What? Oh, no, I was just--"

"Oggling?"

"Yeah," Josh grinned lopsidedly. He turned his back to he counter beside them and held it with both hands, exaggerating his next words.

"I just, can't help it when she looks so damn good."

"She?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Lindsey. I mean, look at her, man!"

He gestured toward the back of the room, where the temptress was confidently showing off her chest to whoever might be looking. Unfortunately for her, it was just Josh. Supposedly.

"Funny how that's not at all the direction you were looking," Chris said with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, well, sorry I can't keep my eyes in one place. Eye contact isn't exactly easy in this mess."

"Nothing is," Chris muttered miserably.

Josh knew Chris hated being dragged along to these kind of things, but he also knew he wouldn't miss a chance to support his friends. So lucky for Josh, Chris had come along, and he wouldn't have to waste himself alone at the bar all night. But that luck only extended so far.  
It was only a few minutes later that Ashley came and stole away his emotional support, leaving Josh to be stranded in a sea of drunken highschoolers. He didn't know what to do, so he did what any other social recluse would.

He drank.  
Three cans later and Josh had managed to open up a little and find some light in the situation. Afterall, he had a great view from his spot by the fridge. The stools were up pretty high, enough for a guy like him to see pretty clearly through the crowd. His eyes raked over the groups of people until they landed back on the subject of his stupor from earlier. Mike Munroe.

It was no surprise that his sister's crush would be at her party. The only issue was that . . . Well, Josh kind of had a thing for him too.  
He'd known about his 'preferences' since middle school, when he had a weird ass (wonderful) dream about a threesome with Sarah McNtyre and Nick Brown. Still one of the best he'd ever had.  
His 'crush' didn't start to form until Mike started hanging out with the rest of them on a regular basis. They'd go out, play video games, spent a summer at the lodge, and, y'know, Josh would just joke around, act like one of the boys. But lately, things had started to get a little out of hand. And with the alcohol in his system, there wasn't much holding him back from watching Mike laugh along to whatever someone'd said, or how he'd lean his head back to take a swig. So for once in a long time, Josh let himself indulge, just for a little.  
But the moment was over sooner than later. Ten minutes passed and Chris was shaking Josh awake.

"Dude."

Josh groaned in response.

"We've gotta talk."

Chris led Josh away from the party to the upstairs, where they shared an extremely uncomfortable moment trying to find a room not otherwise occupied. Fortunately, it only took them two tries before they found Josh's room clean and clear.

"So," Chris started as he sat down on the bed. "Sorry to ruin all your fun, but Ashley pointed something out to me and I thought I'd talk to you about it."

". . . Okay. What's up?"

Chris seemed to struggle to find the right words, leaning forward and rubbing his hands together awkwardly.  
"Right. So . . . earlier, when you were dozing off?"

"You mean checking out Lindsey."

"Yeah. Um, I know you were staring at Mike again."

Josh froze.

"What?" He smiled ignorantly, "Come on, dude. I'm not blind."

"And neither are we," Chris said, not thinking. "I mean--well--Ashley and I. That's all, I swear. But anyway, we just want you to know--it's okay." Chris was looking in his eyes now, doing his damnedest to appear at ease. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here--"

"Woah woah woah," Josh interrupted, a different kind of grin on his face. "You think I'm gay, so you want to tell me I can _talk about it?_ Dude, you've really got to get better at this."

"That's not what I'm trying to say."

"So what are you trying to say? That I'm crushing on the dude my sister's practically in love with?"

Chris rubbed his neck. "Yeah, well . . . Have you never noticed that?"

Josh stood up. "Wow." He started to pace, his mind wandering in a daze around what he wished he could say. "Okay, so."

Chris looked up at him and watched as Josh made vague gestures toward nothing before settling on rubbing his nose.

"Alright so maybe I'm a little gay for the guy but that _doesn't_ mean I'm gonna go for it. What kind of douche do you think I am?"

Chris sighed and stood up too, walking to Josh and putting a hand on his shoulder.  
"Josh. It's okay."

Josh looked at him, still tipsy and dazed and half avoiding this conversation in his consciousness.  
"No. It really isn't."

-

A year and a half later, the Washingtons had given their children permission to use the mountain lodge for a few days. Hannah and Beth invited some of their friends, while Josh brought Chris and Ashley along too. Everyone was ecstatic, to say the least. They had all just turned 18, just started living as adults, and now didn't have to have anyone around for their games. It was supposed to be the ultimate weekend--no supervision, no rules, no police. It was perfect.  
But that weekend turned out to be the worst one of Josh's life. Or maybe the second worst.

It was late Saturday night after a long day of skiing, hot tubbing, eating, and drinking. Josh was, to put it simply, absolutely exhausted. He'd had a little too much to drink after getting carried away with some of their party games, and even more when he started getting those "negative thoughts" again. The last thing he remembered was some excitement over some sort of prank, then only the smell of alcohol and a dim ringing in his ears.  
That was the night Hannah and Beth disappeared.

For the next year, Josh couldn't stop berating himself for not being there that night. There were nights where he would lie in bed, trying to sleep, only to be pulled into thoughts of "I could've stopped them," or "If I hadn't been so focused on my own damn issues, maybe they'd be alive." But it was like his therapist told him, time and time again: what's done is done.

Josh didn't only blame himself, however. He was also hopelessly, desperately pissed at every single one of his friends. They all should have known what a horrible idea it would be to put Hannah in that situation, and to not think that Beth would do what she did. Hannah had been in love with Mike for years, and they just--oh, and _Mike_. The bastard. That year, Josh held for him a hatred almost as great as the one for himself. Mike had gone along with the stupid plan. Hell, he'd been the main participant. And then his sisters died, one by one, ending up at God knows where. Josh couldn't help that he still had feelings for the man. After what happened, he was so sickeningly understanding, so good--it infuriated him. But that only fed to the flames of his own self hatred.

He tried for far too long to push his hatred onto his friends, but always in the end it came back to himself. Josh Washington, the man who couldn't even wake up from a few drinks. The man who slept, safe and sound, as his sisters suffered a fate nobody even knew.  
It haunted him wherever he went, but it was always the worst when he slept. He'd have dreams where he was running, chasing Hannah and Beth through the woods, so close, so close to stopping them--but they always ended in their deaths. Other dreams would have him laughing along with his friends, years later. He'd say, "They overreacted," or "They brought it on themselves," and in the morning he would wake up feeling like complete and utter shit. In a way, he almost preferred the dreams of death.

So was it any surprise that he wanted something to change? That he needed something big, something catastrophic, to pull his head out of his own ass and put things the way they were meant to be? Josh certainly thought, after another year of failed medications and nightmares and pain, that that was a very good idea indeed.

-

A year later, Josh enacted his plan. All of his friends, and whoever they wished to bring, on an all-expense-paid trip back to the very place where it began. He had to admit, seeing them, he wasn't as angry as he thought he would be. Rather, he felt something else entirely. A sense of power he hadn't felt in years, but also that pain, still ever lurking in the back of his mind, now mixed with guilt as he saw his friends prepare for what was meant to be a good weekend in remembrance of the lives they lost. They would remember, at least.

But when Josh revealed himself to his friends, most gathered around Chris and Ashley, all terrified out of their minds--he didn't feel a thing. He didn't feel any better than he had for the past year. He didn't feel any sense of reward, or any guilt seeing the obvious pain in their eyes. He just felt . . . there. Sick. But light headed and--oh, this was so goddamn _funny!_ Why couldn't they see that? Stupid question. Of course they couldn't see that. He wasn't surprised, and he wasn't even that surprised when Mike and Chris tied him up and threw him in a shed. The only thing that managed to break his mania then was the words that came out of Mike's mouth.  
"Jessica is dead because of you! You killed her, you son of a bitch!"  
No. No, no that was definitely not part of the plan.  
"What the fuck are you talking about? Jessica's dead?"

But all that did was earn him a kick. He nearly vomited all over the snow then, feeling so impossibly dizzy from the insomnia, the withdrawls, he hadn't eaten, and feeling so high and then all of a sudden--Jessica. Someone had died. Because of him?  
When Mike threatened to shoot him, part of him wanted him to do it. So he provoked him. He egged him on because--hell, what was there to lose anymore? Didn't he deserve it?

But everything went dark when Chris hit him over the head. The last thing he remembered was pain, and then . . .

-

Josh couldn't remember what he saw in the Wendigo's nest. It had been 2 years, but he had never managed to uproot that little speck of trauma. His therapist said it would come with time, but Josh was kind of convinced he actually got a concussion when the Wendigo threw him into its hole. He only remembered talking to Mike and Chris--oh God, he'd really said those things--then being found and shaken awake. Next thing he knew, he was being led to safety. By Mike. Josh didn't want to count how many guilty dreams he'd had of that particular experience. But as time went by, less of his dreams included masks and overalls and waking up in cold sweat, and more became about just--Josh, and whoever else, and making things alright.

In fact, a lot of things began to change as time passed. Nobody would forget Jessica and Matt. That was set in stone. For the next three years, the remaining friends resolved to honor their memory each year at a chosen friend's house. The first year was at Emily's. Josh didn't think he'd ever seen Emily cry before that night. Nobody would say it, but they all knew that what happened changed Emily. Perhaps, even for the better.  
The second year was Mike's place, and everybody was shocked at how well Mike seemed to handle the whole affair. He was civil, fun, but respectful. Just as strong as he had been two years ago. Except when everyone left that night, Josh caught a glimpse of something in his eyes that he'd only ever seen before in himself. It was never easy to be the one who survived.

Day to day, they lived out their new lives, each friend going down a different path while still staying close with the people they'd seen death with. Sam and Mike became close, after their time shared in the mines. Chris and Ashley finally got together, and it wasn't a big surprise that their music made it big. Fast. Like, Spotify top 100 big.  
And as for Josh . . . Well, it wasn't exactly easy at first.  
His first several months back were spent in residential, nursing back to some sort of stability under the constant watch of four different nurses and two attending physicians. He never felt like he deserved all that attention, but he supposed it made sense for the safety of everyone else. Oops.  
Josh was actually completely floored when a group of his friends came to visit him in the hospital. It wasn't close and convenient, either. But Sam, Ashley, and Chris made time for him. And if he was gonna be honest with himself, their visits are what helped him survive that hellhole.

And Mike? He didn't start showing up until a month in. Josh couldn't blame him. It was his fault that Jessica was dead, even if Mike would never say that out loud. Josh knew. He invited them, didn't he? But surprisingly, things didn't stay tense for long.

"Uh. Mike?"

When the nurse said he'd be getting a visitor at noon, Josh really didn't expect Mike. Chris, maybe. But not the guy whose life he'd permanently put a wrench in.

"In all my glory," Mike quipped with a small smile. He sat down on the bolted-down chair across from Josh and leaned back, looking up at all the fluorescent lights above them. "Wow. They really want you to see in here, don't they?" He squinted against the light.

Josh, still in shock, shook his head. "Uh-yeah, I guess."

A pause. Josh could hear Mike strumming his fingers along the arm of the chair, and he nearly smiled. 'Now who's nervous?'

"Look, not to be rude, but the more times you visit, the more you risk them looking into the 'cousin' thing. Why are you here, anyway?" Josh still found it ridiculous that his friends had to lie about familial ties to see him.

Mike seemed to think before leaning forward and swiping at the air dismissively.

"Do I need a reason to visit my friend?"

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Normally, no. But considering we've hardly ever been more than "friends of a friend," an explanation would be nice."

Mike sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess." He swallowed and scratched at his neck before meeting Josh's eyes.

_Wow. How does any guy get his eyelashes that long?_

"I just thought that maybe there'd been a bit of bad blood between us in the past, and seeing as how you've got plenty of time on your hands, I thought maybe we could try to talk things out?"

Josh did not expect that.  
But he wasn't upset, either.

"Yeah," he smiled. "I think maybe we can try."

And so they talked. First, just checking up on each other. Josh didn't really see any reason to hide much, but he kept the less pleasant side of things out of the conversation. And from what he could tell, Mike did the same.  
It was hard, but eventually, they started delving a little deeper--to the time on the mountain.

"Thank you," Josh said quietly. "You didn't have to come back for me, man. And honestly, I'm surprised you didn't fucking die, but" he chuckled hollowly before daring a glimpse at the other man.  
"I wouldn't be here without you, so. Yeah. Thanks."

Mike actually smiled at that.

Of course, Josh didn't mention how that was sort of a 'prince charming saves me from my zombie sister' moment for him, as Josh was sure Mike would not have appreciated that.

"Hey, man. What was I supposed to do? I'd already-" his expression lost its light- "well, I just . . . Needed to be able to save somebody."

And there it was. The first time Mike opened up to Josh, and Josh couldn't have been more relieved. After that, he felt comfortable enough to share his own apology for what happened.

"Mike, I'm so, so sorry. I mean--you don't have to ever forgive me, hell, you shouldn't, but just know. Know that if I could take it all back, I would."

Mike hesitated before clapping him on the arm.

"Just don't go off your meds again, okay, trooper?"

Josh scoffed at the nickname but agreed without a doubt.

"I won't, trust me. Shit. I'd rather get shitfaced every night for a week."

"That's commendable," Mike remarked.

"Well, after all that's happened." Josh exhaled deeply, flaring his eyes open for dramatic effect.

Mike smiled softly, but it quickly faded back into a troubled stare. He seemed deeply engaged in a staring contest with the floor when he spoke next.

"And . . . Dude, I'm sorry for leaving you in the shed. That . . . wasn't cool."

"Not really." Josh watched as Mike flinched. "But do you honestly think I deserved protection?"

"Josh. . ."

"Nah, man. Look. We can be friends now--if you want, I mean, I 'd like that and all--but we shouldn't pretend everything was all dandy a couple years ago. Cause dude. Really wasn't." Josh cringed as he remembered all the hatred he had in that year before the reunion. God.

Luckily, Mike pulled him out of his thoughts again by nodding in approval.

"Yeah. Good point."

"Good. Now, we gonna hug this out, or . . . ?"

Mike looked surprised but Josh rolled his eyes, and it was Josh's turn to be surprised as Mike reached over and gave him your typical bro-hugging-bro hug. Josh tried really hard not to hold on for too long.

I've actually gotta go. I have an, um, appointment coming up. But I'll see you later, alright? Don't die or anything."

Josh smiled. "Well, you know, with all the wonderful food, how could i?"  
He mimicked shooting himself in the head, and Mike gave him a half-disturbed smile.

"Right. Yeah. Well, good luck man. See ya."

And then he was gone.


	2. Part 2 (Mike)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Mike time bb

Mike began visiting Josh with the others' weekly visits until he was finally released in May. After the conversation they shared in February, Mike began to see Josh in a different light. Each time him and the others would visit, Josh would be great--normal, even fun, to be around. It was nothing compared to the person he'd pointed a gun at in the Washingtons' shed. Sure, there were a few times where they'd walk in on a tired husk of a man, but most of the time he was just like any other troubled young adult. God knows they knew what it was like to be one.

When Mike returned from the mountain, he'd been immediately placed into therapy. At first, he hated the idea. Why should he linger on what happened? "What's done is done," He'd told himself. There was no need to try to fix that. But he picked up on the idea after a few months of constant paranoia, night terrors, and survivor's guilt. He was put into group therapy about 6 months later.  
Mike learned a hell of a lot from those group therapy sessions. He hated the idea of opening up to a bunch of strangers, but he never had to go too in depth when it was his turn to share. No, he preferred listening to everyone else. There was something about hearing their stories that made him feel less . . . Fucked.

And maybe that was what drew him so suddenly to Josh. Josh was, by all means, a very ill individual. According to Sam, the man had been taking pills long before what happened to them all. Before even Hannah and Beth. So was it really that surprising that he did all that he did?  
Mike thought on that a lot over the two years following their return. At first, he just dismissed it. Crazy guy, right? But now here he was, Mike Munroe, waking up in the middle of the night and having terrible, lingering thoughts that made him want to do more than just put his fingers to his head. He'd even been put on some medications for his night terrors and "possible symptoms of PTSD."

So, yeah. He was beginning to sympathize with the dude. He might have even started being grateful that he saved him back in that cave. And maybe it was for more than just the guilt over what happened to Jess. But whatever it was, Mike wasn't ready to admit that until three years had passed.

"I hope you don't mind how close I have to be for this."

Mike tried to keep a straight face as his therapist rolled his chair over towards the couch Mike was sitting on. "Uh, no. It's fine."

The older man nodded professionally and held out his pen. "If your eyes start to stray from my fingers, I will lightly tap your knees with this pen. Okay?"

Mike flexed his fingers. "Right."

Dr. Sundan raised an eyebrow but maintained his composure. "If ever you are to start getting too disturbed, please tell me and we will leave the memory."

Mike nodded, and Dr. Sundan readied his papers. The older man glanced down and squinted at the fine lines they read before holding up two fingers and starting to sway them side to side.

As ridiculous as he felt, Mike forced himself to follow the doctor's fingers with his gaze and focus on the description the man continued to provide about what Mike had said about this particular memory so far.

"You spoke to me about a winding tunnel underneath the mountain you visited with your friends. You remembered walking through it to reach the man who . . . endangered your friends."

In a flash, Mike was reminded of Jess, her terrified face being pulled through the window--long, skin taught fingers clawing at her. A head hanging over the place in which she fell.

_No. That's the wrong memory. Save it for later, Mike._

Mike forced himself to focus back on the fingers in front of him, realizing the doctor had tapped him lightly with the pen. He tried to think back to what they were discussing. What was it?

"You told me you reached him, after finding another of your friends--Sam, I think her name was? Yes. So, you and Sam explored this cave--or, the nest, as you referred to it. That's when you described seeing the monstrous form again. It grabbed the man."

Mike tensed up but kept his eyes glued to those two fingers as if his life depended on it. He had to admit, it was a hell of a hard task to keep his mind focused on this bullshit. It was as if it wanted desperately for him to forget--to look away, and never touch this shit again.

"Tell me what you're seeing, Michael."

"I . . . can't."

"You had a high disturbance with this memory. Let's try again. The monster grabbed your friend. You remember-" The doctor looked down at his notes, fingers still ticking away- "time seemed frozen still. You thought of Jessica, who you were dating at the time. And what else?"

Mike bit his lip, blinking as he tried desperately to grab at some sort of productive material to get this session over with. But the more he tried, the more his own inner monologue ran over a blank white slate in his head.

_Come on, Mike. Think. Think, damn it!_

"I . . . Yes. I thought of Jess. I thought of her because . . . Because I remembered that she fell. That I was so close to saving her, and I couldn't even--" He shut his eyes and received no tap.

"Continue, if you can."

"I couldn't . . . I couldn't help her. And I couldn't just leave Josh. Because I'd just be failing someone again."

Even as he spoke, Mike knew these were the words he repeated in his head. The words he spoke to himself when he tried to make sense of it all in his guilt. The question was, was there any truth to it?

"Alright. Focus on that feeling. The feeling of failure, and the image of the man being dragged away by the, uh--" a page turn. "--The wendigo."

"His name is Josh."

The words were out before he knew why they were, but Dr. Sundan didn't stop him. Instead, he nodded and resumed his finger wagging when Mike opened his eyes again.  
"Josh. What do you feel when you see the image of him being dragged away?"

Mike swallowed.  
"A fucking lot." He cleared his throat. "I mean, I feel . . . anger. Hate. Confusion, and--and fear."

The doctor nodded and stilled his fingers, apparently satisfied with that.  
And good thing too, as Mike was starting to sweat.

"Now. Tell me, Michael. What negative belief do you associate with those feelings of anger and fear? What does the failure make you think negatively about yourself?"

If Mike wasn't already bothered before, he was absolutely rigid now. Tense. Ready. Ready for anything.

"It makes me think . . ." He sighed loudly and ran his hand roughly through his hair. "Sorry, I just--can't think. Um, it makes me think that I . . ." He closed his eyes, furrowing his brows as he imagined that night and that moment, the hesitation that he felt to save Josh--to save another living human being, all because of his own fear.  
"It makes me think I'm weak. That I'm selfish, and I can't do anything right."

The doctor nods. "You're doing very good, Michael, very good." He sat up then, clipboard against his legs as he looked Mike in the eyes.

"But don't you think that because you saved him, you were strong? You hesitated because that man had been the reason why you were in the situation you were in. You've mentioned he was unwell, but that knowledge does not stop us from feeling natural human emotions. What matters is that you acted on the right ones."

Mike could almost feel himself tearing up, but he refused to let himself cry over some stupid "oh I'm not manly enough" garbage.

"And what were those then?"

"That, we have yet to discover."

On the third anniversary of Hannah, Beth, Matt and Jessica's deaths, Josh volunteered his new place. There was some hesitation at first, but everyone eventually agreed. Josh's place was nice, which wasn't surprising considering his parents' dough. But Josh insisted he'd paid for the place himself, which made everyone wonder how he got the funds off of a waiter's salary. But fuck it. It made for a great hangout.

Mike arrived by himself, latest to the party only after Chris, who said he'd had a "work emergency" and apologized profusely until Emily snapped at him for being a pushover. Emily had changed, but it was nice to see some things hadn't. That night, the 5 of them sat outside beside the heat of a small stone campfire, telling stories and sharing struggles and joys over the years. They'd all changed remarkably from the 18 year olds of 4 years before. Now they were on their own, truly, for some, in more painful ways than others. And all of them had begun new lives. It felt like they should have been older, as tired and melancholic as they all felt that night. But somehow, the youth in their eyes made the pain all the more bitter.

Eventually, after a moment of respectful silence spent thinking over the past and future alike, the 4 visitors began to gather their things and prepare to leave. One by one they left, until Josh was waving Sam goodbye from his doorstep with that lopsided grin.

Mike walked slowly towards his car, not quite wanting to go back to the stillness of his own apartment. But when he did reach his car, he realized he didn't even have his keys with him. Cursing, Mike made his way back along the path he took until he was convinced his keys were left inside. He made his way up to the door and knocked. It was a minute or two before it opened.

Mike shifted feet awkwardly, already speaking as soon as the door had opened.

"Hey, uh, just left my keys somewhere inside. Mind if I grab them real quick?"

But Mike froze when he saw Josh, pale as a ghost and glossy eyed, leaning on the door in an attempt to appear casual and not actually possibly needing just that support.

"Yeah, that's fine," he spoke softly, an unusual feat for someone as loud mouthed as Josh.

Mike nodded and moved past the door when it opened further for him, but turned back to Josh.

"You alright, man? You look like shit."

"Thanks," Josh managed to smile at that, but it wasn't much. "I'm fine."

Mike bit his lip as he spotted his keys on the counter space beside Josh. He walked over, glancing at the other man before grabbing his keys and shoving them down into his pocket.

"Right." Mike paused. He thought about a witty comment, but something told him that would only shut Josh out. So he opted instead to stand his ground, looking Josh in the eyes before leaning against the counter with him.

". . . It must be hard. Losing someone you knew your whole life."

Josh's eyes dropped farther to the floor, but his arms loosened ever so slightly from being crossed against his chest.

"Yeah."

A pause.

"It must be hard," Josh began with a slight crack in his throat, "losing someone you love, because of someone like me." He swallowed and turned to Josh, his eyes bitter and hopeless and lost.

"Then seeing that person grow. Heal." He looked away then, and Mike found himself without a thing to say. Because here was Josh--someone so fun, and loving, and bold--who he'd seen both nearly break his neck doing some skating trick he never learned, and yell at nothing in a damp, dark cave. And he was thinking the same goddamn thing that Mike did when he woke up at 2 a.m. on a Tuesday night.

Mike turned and looked at the man beside him. "You think you should be dead."

Josh was silent for a moment, but then the dam broke loose. He turned, covering his face in his hand while he blindly stumbled to the door. "Y-You should, should leave." Grinding teeth. A wet sleeve. "So sorry."

Mike just stared at him before realizing that no, staring at the crying man would not actually help at all. So instead, he stepped forward and took the door from him, closing it with a soft 'click.'

"Come here, man."

And then Josh was melting into the other man's arms, crying and snotty and shaking in his grasp. He rest his head against Mike's shoulder, and the latter held him close.

Nothing more was said as Mike's arms wrapped around his back, and Josh's own snaked underneath to hold him back.

At least, not until Josh's grip began to loosen, and he fell nearly limp in Mike's arms.

" _Shit!_ ”

Mike caught him, of course, before helping him over to the couch. He sat Josh down then stood in front of him, searching Josh's lidded eyes as he felt his forehead.

"Shit" was the verdict. Mike withdrew his hand and hurried to the kitchen, where he grabbed an ice pack and a glass of water. When he returned, he sat Josh back up from where he was leaning against the arm of the couch and pressed the ice pack to his head. Josh groaned and didn't protest when Mike pulled his flannel off from over a grey, long sleeved shirt.

"What the hell man? Is this a heat flash or something? Do I need to call an ambulance?"

Josh shook his head, taking the ice pack from Mike and moving it down to his chest. "Hot flash. Too sad. Don't you dare bring police to my apartment."

Mike scoffed, still worried for his friend. "Great, so you're a wanted man as well."

Josh tried to smile, but the corners of his upturned mouth only served to catch the tears that were still falling. "Might--Might as well be."

Mike bit the inside of his cheek--a nervous habit of his--and smoothed back some of Josh's hair. "Look. I don't blame you for anything that happened. Not anymore."

Now it was Josh's turn to scoff. "You're a damned idiot, then."

Mike frowned. This wasn't right.

"Josh. Come on. Look at me, man."

Josh chuckled humorlessly and turned his reddened, pained gaze towards his friend.

"I know what you're thinking."

Josh looked him up and down. "I really doubt it."

"You're thinking you deserve to die. That it should've been you, instead of Beth, or Hannah, or Matt. Or Jessica."

Josh shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as if expecting some sort of wound.

"You're fucking wrong, man. You're wrong."

And then Josh met his gaze again, because what was that he heard in Mike's voice?--And what he saw was enough to take the breath out of him. Mike was looking at him, looking straight at him, with those goddamn beautiful eyes, with all that pain, that understanding, and Josh just couldn't . . . He couldn't _not_ do what he did next.

Josh dropped the ice pack and reached behind Mike's neck, pulling their faces close and then smashing his lips against the other man's.

Mike nearly jumped at the sudden cold sensation at the back of his neck, but he sure as hell didn't pull away either. Instead, his eyes fluttered close, long eyelashes tickling Josh's skin and making the man shudder in front of him. Mike didn't know what the hell he was doing, but his decision was made as he held Josh's chin in between his fingers, kissing back with passion he didn’t know he had.

Eventually, Josh pulled Mike onto the couch with him, leaning forward to capture his lips again in a soft and thoughtful kiss.

Mike really didn't know he was capable of it, but having the other man so close--his lips tasting, touch wanting, eyes hoping--made him feel things he never thought he could feel for another man. Josh moved to wrap both hands around his neck, and Mike wiped at his friend's tears with his thumb.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this . . ." Josh mumbled into his lips, and Mike felt his eyes close, his heartbeat quicken, before . . .

Mike pulled away, flushed and full of shame. "This is wrong."

Josh's eyes flew open, and he stared at the other man.

"Not like--I mean, just--today, and . . . And . . ."

But it was too late. Josh's eyes had widened to an unsettling amount, and he shoved Mike away with more than enough force. "Oh god, oh fuck. Fuck. Um. Fuck."

Mike landed on the floor, guilt ridden and regretting every word he'd ever said because Josh was going back again, retreating--

"You should really fucking go, man. You should really fucking go."

And what could Mike say but that 'yeah, you're right. I have to leave.'

And so he did the next best thing: he stood, grabbed the keys that had fallen out of his pocket, took one last look at Josh and muttered "I'm sorry" before hurrying to the door. He didn't dare turn around. The bile in his throat told him that if he did, he might just lose it.


End file.
